


Heavy In Your Arms

by DIEMONDS, funsociety



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, shitty friend scott :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-29 15:13:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15732000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DIEMONDS/pseuds/DIEMONDS, https://archiveofourown.org/users/funsociety/pseuds/funsociety
Summary: Stiles' dad falls off the wagon with his sobriety, leaving Derek no choice but to run over to comfort him.a.k.a the oneshot i didn't know what to do with





	Heavy In Your Arms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DIEMONDS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DIEMONDS/gifts).



> LOLLLLL i wrote this sooooo long ago as like a prompt or something and forgot about it and i just recently decided to rewrite it after 60 years. so that's that on that, hope you enjoyeth

If there's one thing Stiles was sure he hated, it was appearing needy. Absolutely nothing could compare to it. Ever since his mother died, he'd been sure to take care of his father, no matter what. He made sure their bills were paid, that they were doing well financially (a sheriff in a town full of supernatural beings could only go so far), and that his dad's blood pressure wasn't skyrocketing.

Most importantly, that he wasn't drinking.

Stiles understood why his dad drank, he really did. He just wished he didn’t. He looked up to the man, and seeing him drink himself to sleep on the couch wasn’t the most pleasant experience.

There was only one person Stiles could confide himself in, and trust with his feelings on the matter; Derek. He wasn’t sure why Derek, out of all people. He thought about telling Scott, but scratched that idea; he loved Scott, but the boy had this constant need to talk about Allison, so it would only be a matter of time before he stopped listening to Stiles’ problems and started talking about his own.

He took a deep breath. _Here goes nothing_ , he thought, grabbing his phone from his bedside table. He dialed the number swiftly and attempted to clear his throat.

"Hello?" Derek grunted on the other side of the line, his voice sounding groggy. 

"Hey," he mumbled. The sadness in his voice was inevitable, but he tried as hard as he could to mask it.

A gloomy sigh came from the other end.

"Is he at it again?"

He didn't want to admit it. He was so proud of his father for keeping clean for the past 2 months. Mostly everyone knew him as a joker, the boy who could make everyone laugh. The boy capable of making the most stone-faced person crack a smile. The only person he could actually find himself able to be serious around was Derek. No one knew him better. Scott was probably too busy off with Allison in some random run-down bus at school, and Lydia - he couldn't even begin to talk about this with her.

"…Yeah. I'm really sorry to bother you, Derek." 

"It's okay. You're going to be fine. I won't let anything happen to you."

"I know," he sniffled. "It's just that when he gets like this, I just don't know what to do, and this has been my job since my mom di-"

"Stiles. Listen to me. You're going to be okay. You're doing a great job taking care of your dad. Your mother... she'd definitely be proud of you."

It was quiet for a moment. Stiles softly sighed but said nothing in response. It's not that he wasn't grateful for how comforting Derek was being; his brain was just too scattered to respond.

"Do you need me to come over?"

 _Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck_. As much as he wanted to be held in Derek's warm and protective embrace, he couldn't have him see his father like this. It wasn't right.

"Uh, no, it's okay. I... I don't want you to drive this late at night," he sighed. He was lying through his teeth, and he knew Derek didn't believe it for a second.

"Stiles. I've been thrown through two whole walls, and I have significantly enhanced vision. I highly doubt a car crash, unlikely enough as it is for myself, would even give me a scratch. If I can't come over, I'm picking you up."

"Bu-"

"STILES."

He knew Derek wasn't taking no for an answer. Derek is and always will be a stubborn, sour wolf and he should've known this was how this conversation would end.

"Fine," Stiles groaned. _Please, please, please let this go well_.

"Great. See you in ten minutes."

Stiles set the phone down and stood up. He slowly crept into the living room to see if his father was still passed out on the couch, and sure enough, there he was, hand hanging off the tan couch, almost close enough to knock over the bottle. _What would that matter_ , he thought, _it's already empty_. He quickly picked up the whiskey glass off the floor and threw it into the bin. Before returning to his room, he glanced at the framed family portrait of the three of them. His mother looked so radiant and joyous, wrapped in her husband's arms.

 _Maybe tomorrow it'll be better_ , he thought, shutting the door behind him.

. . .

He was in his room, lying on his side on the bed, facing the wall. Stiles heard the window creak open.

“Hey.” Derek slid through, making sure not to knock anything over.

"Hey," he mumbled without turning away from the wall. In a matter of seconds, he felt a weight press down on the bed next to him, and he finally turned around. Derek was sitting next to him, looking at him with a worried expression.

“You didn’t have to come, you know,” he muttered, but Derek cut him off by resting his palm on Stiles’ arm.

“Stop it. You know I'll always be here when you need me.”

Blood ran to his face. Whenever Derek said things like that his entire body was flooded over with this feeling; as if the world was stopping for the two of them, just for the moments they were together.

“I know,” he murmured, looking Derek directly in the eyes. A few moments passed, and he sat up, shifting his face closer to Derek’s. It was like he wasn’t in control of his body; he just felt a strong urge to get closer to him, to wrap his arms around him, and bury his face in the crook of his neck.

“Stiles…” Derek’s mouth was slightly open, his gaze fixated on Stiles’ lips. Derek moved his hands and cupped his face with them. He grazed one of his thumbs over one of the moles on his face.

“Derek… please,” he whined.  Derek couldn’t control himself any longer; he surged forward, connecting their lips. It was everything he needed and more. Stiles tasted like a mixture of vanilla and a touch of cinnamon. His lips pressed harder and harder, trying desperately to permanently cement it into his brain.

Stiles had no idea what he was doing, seeing as he never kissed anyone before, so he let Derek take the lead.

Derek realized Stiles was a quick learner; he was mimicking his movements in a matter of seconds.

Eventually, the two broke apart but rested their foreheads against each other, Stiles smiling wide.

“What?” Derek snorted.

“Nothing,” he sighed and wrapped his arms around Derek, throwing them both back on the bed, refusing to let go.

That night both of them slept better than they have in a long time.


End file.
